assault team coordinated through neural linkups, did you not?"
"We did, yes."
"I'd imagine that given your other physical, sensory and psychological advantages, this single unit coordination must have made your team extremely difficult for most mere human soldiers to oppose effectively, in a combat situation. In fact, it seems to me that your unit would have almost an unfair advantage. Would you agree with that assessment?"
Another reluctant nod. "That is the design purpose of most military technology, Your Honour."
"Indeed." A pause. The woman continued to read off the screen before her. Sandy's mind raced over the possible implications of what she was asking. Or what she might be reading from the screen before her. Intelligence, no doubt — mostly military. Intelligence on Dark Star. Then she looked up, her expression mild and purposeful. "Will I have heard of any of these operations?"
If your security clearance is as high as I think it is, Sandy thought, you can read about any of them whenever you wish. But she didn't say it. And said instead, after a moment's thought, "My unit was very active around Goan just three years ago."
"Which operations exactly?"
Sandy shook her head, wearily. "For the same reasons I gave to my CSA interviewers, I refuse to give any answers regarding my past military operations that are any more specific than those I have already given."
"Your continued refusals to cooperate have been noted, Captain," the big man said coldly.
"I'm very happy to respond to any questions directly relating to Callayan security," Sandy continued, addressing the Arabic judge as if her compatriot had never spoken. "My wartime record is a matter for Federal Intelligence, however, and does not directly involve Callayan security issues at all. I fear that sharing wartime information at this moment might entangle me directly in a lot of Federal politics I'd really rather avoid at this time. I appear to be in deep enough water as it is."
Guderjaal in particular, she noted, appeared to concede that argument. She guessed that, in his position, he knew a thing or two about Federal politics. He leaned forward, elbows on the bench before him, and looked at her from under serious, underlit brows.
"What have you done here, Captain?" he asked, changing the subject entirely.
The question caught her off guard. "Your Honour?"
"Here in Tanusha. What have you done here since you've arrived?"
"Well..." Still puzzled. "I believe my job interviews have already been documented by the CSA agents ..."
"No, no." Guderjaal shook his head with a faint trace of impatience. "Aside from your work. Hotel records show that you spent a great deal of time away from your room, more time than would have been required merely for your interviews. What information we have gathered about FIA activities indicates that your tail was first obtained while visiting the Tanushan Gallery of the Arts. Do you like art?"
Guderjaal had thrown her completely. It was not the line of questioning she had expected in this place. Her pulse rate accelerated and she forced herself to calm, remembering the sensor plug and the monitor readings. Civilian judges, civilian law, Federation concepts. At any second, she was in danger of straying far out of her depth in these treacherous, unfamiliar waters. It scared her.
She blinked, forcefully refocusing her attention. "Yes." Unable for a brief moment to keep the puzzlement from her face. "Yes, I do like art."
"Why?" She blinked again. Guderjaal seemed perfectly serious. He had a live, cooperative GI before him. Command level, at that. An unmissable opportunity. Fear flared, and she forced it back down. The judges, however, all looked at their monitor screens, as if on cue.
"This line of questioning disturbs you?" Guderjaal asked, looking up through narrowed eyes. It was the sensor plug. It was reading her reactions. It was unpleasant and invasive and there was nothing she could do about it.
"This entire courtroom
"We did, yes."
"I'd imagine that given your other physical, sensory and psychological advantages, this single unit coordination must have made your team extremely difficult for most mere human soldiers to oppose effectively, in a combat situation. In fact, it seems to me that your unit would have almost an unfair advantage. Would you agree with that assessment?"
Another reluctant nod. "That is the design purpose of most military technology, Your Honour."
"Indeed." A pause. The woman continued to read off the screen before her. Sandy's mind raced over the possible implications of what she was asking. Or what she might be reading from the screen before her. Intelligence, no doubt — mostly military. Intelligence on Dark Star. Then she looked up, her expression mild and purposeful. "Will I have heard of any of these operations?"
If your security clearance is as high as I think it is, Sandy thought, you can read about any of them whenever you wish. But she didn't say it. And said instead, after a moment's thought, "My unit was very active around Goan just three years ago."
"Which operations exactly?"
Sandy shook her head, wearily. "For the same reasons I gave to my CSA interviewers, I refuse to give any answers regarding my past military operations that are any more specific than those I have already given."
"Your continued refusals to cooperate have been noted, Captain," the big man said coldly.
"I'm very happy to respond to any questions directly relating to Callayan security," Sandy continued, addressing the Arabic judge as if her compatriot had never spoken. "My wartime record is a matter for Federal Intelligence, however, and does not directly involve Callayan security issues at all. I fear that sharing wartime information at this moment might entangle me directly in a lot of Federal politics I'd really rather avoid at this time. I appear to be in deep enough water as it is."
Guderjaal in particular, she noted, appeared to concede that argument. She guessed that, in his position, he knew a thing or two about Federal politics. He leaned forward, elbows on the bench before him, and looked at her from under serious, underlit brows.
"What have you done here, Captain?" he asked, changing the subject entirely.
The question caught her off guard. "Your Honour?"
"Here in Tanusha. What have you done here since you've arrived?"
"Well..." Still puzzled. "I believe my job interviews have already been documented by the CSA agents ..."
"No, no." Guderjaal shook his head with a faint trace of impatience. "Aside from your work. Hotel records show that you spent a great deal of time away from your room, more time than would have been required merely for your interviews. What information we have gathered about FIA activities indicates that your tail was first obtained while visiting the Tanushan Gallery of the Arts. Do you like art?"
Guderjaal had thrown her completely. It was not the line of questioning she had expected in this place. Her pulse rate accelerated and she forced herself to calm, remembering the sensor plug and the monitor readings. Civilian judges, civilian law, Federation concepts. At any second, she was in danger of straying far out of her depth in these treacherous, unfamiliar waters. It scared her.
She blinked, forcefully refocusing her attention. "Yes." Unable for a brief moment to keep the puzzlement from her face. "Yes, I do like art."
"Why?" She blinked again. Guderjaal seemed perfectly serious. He had a live, cooperative GI before him. Command level, at that. An unmissable opportunity. Fear flared, and she forced it back down. The judges, however, all looked at their monitor screens, as if on cue.
"This line of questioning disturbs you?" Guderjaal asked, looking up through narrowed eyes. It was the sensor plug. It was reading her reactions. It was unpleasant and invasive and there was nothing she could do about it.
"This entire courtroom
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